


The Frisk File

by OMalley_de_Bough



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Inspired By Undertale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6137731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMalley_de_Bough/pseuds/OMalley_de_Bough





	1. Chapter 1

“Frisk, it is time to wake up.”

These words echoed through Frisk's mind. They had no idea where they were, but the voice was familiar. Toriel? Maybe, but muffled as if speaking through a wall. What was happening?

Frisk felt as if they were suspended mid air, stuck in some sort of form between physical and spiritual. Darkness surrounded them with no end in sight.  They tried to move, but there was nothing to move.  Slight panic began to set in.  

“Sans? Papyrus?” Frisk called out. They could feel themselves speaking, but there was no sound.

“Alpyhs? Undyne?”

No response, as if there could even be one.

It made no sense.  Frisk had just been at home with Toriel. The last thing they remember was being tucked in for bed. Then they opened their eyes and here they were.

“Frisk.” A voice called out, this time much clearer

“It is time to wake up.”

Frisk could not pin the source of the voice. It appeared to come from all directions at once. They could feel themselves begin to move, moving to where they felt was forward. They gained speed, moving faster, faster, and faster. Ahead a white dot appeared. It grew in size as Frisk barreled forward.

Frisk crossed a barrier from the darkness into the light. It was blinding at first, Frisk's eyes closed intensely as they adjusted to what was happening.

When Frisk opened their eyes they found themselves laying on a bed. Whatever just occurred felt like a bad dream. But something was wrong. Frisk immediately noticed the room they were in was lit up and completely white, the bed included. They sat up and examined the room. The wall opposite of the bed had a door with a frosted glass window, the outline of the door prominent against the white paint. In the center of the room was a table with two chairs on opposite ends.

Through the glass Frisk saw someone approach the door. They unlocked it with a click that echoed in the room. The door opened and in walked a man. He was wearing a black suit and tie. In his hand was a thick manila folder. He noticed Frisk was awake and flashed them a warm smile.

“Good to see you're awake.” the man said. He approached the table and tossed the file onto the surface. The man took a seat at the table. He had kept his gaze fixed on Frisk since he entered the room.

“Please, come have a seat” he said to Frisk, gesturing to the chair.

Frisk did as instructed. They rose from the bed and took the seat opposite the man. He broke eye contact with Frisk, turning his attention to the manila folder. He fingered through several papers, pulling some out and leaving others. He spread them out on the table space before him. Frisk was too short to see what the papers read.

“We are incredibly pleased with the results you have presented thus far.” said the man, looking back up to Frisk. A wry smile appeared on his face.

“Where am I? Where is Toriel?” Frisk asked.

“This previous trial was surprising, considering the results of other trials.” the man said, completely ignoring Frisk's question. The man turned his attention to the papers,

“W-where am I?” Frisk asked again, “Where is Toriel?”

“She doesn't exist.” the man said coldly, keeping his eyes on the papers. “At least not anymore.”

Frisk's heart sank.

“W-What does that mean?”

The man looked up to Frisk, once more ignored what they said.

“We dubbed this past trial as “Pacifist”. You slew no monsters and made friends with anyone you came across. You ended your journey by choosing to stay with Toriel instead of going on your own. You were on the track to living a happy and fulfilling life. Very heart warming.” The man shuffled some of the papers. He examined a few of the documents before looking back to Frisk.

“We are very anxious to see what the next trial holds.”

“What did you mean by Toriel not existing?” Frisk asked, their voice beginning to show distress.

“I meant exactly that. She does not exist. Papyrus, Asgore, Undyne, and Alphys too. They do not exist anymore. The Flowey issue is still present though. However, this past trial did give us a lot of insight on how and why Flowey exists. We'll be dealing with it soon enough.”

Tears formed in Frisk's eyes.

“I just want to go home!” Frisk yelled. Tears started to run down their cheeks.

“This is a real change.” The man said through a smirk, “Two trials ago you sat in that very chair and stared coldly into my eyes while I spoke. Then you attempted to attack me with the very chair you are sitting in. That whole trial was really intense.”

The man pulled a document from within the folder.

“We named it the 'Genocide'. Absolutely no mercy on your end, Frisk. Many, many monsters dead, your 'friends' included. Papyrus was your first meaningful victim. I know he's oblivious and full of himself, but even I found that to be a little disturbing. Later on you spared no mercy with Undyne. Her death was very—unsettling to see. Your last challenge was Sans, an agent of our own. After defeating him you used your SAVE ability-”

The man looked to the paper, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

“To kill Sans a total of eight times.”

The man returned the document he held to the folder, then pulled out another document and scanned it quickly. Frisk's breathing became erratic. They tried desperately to hold back more tears.

“That was the first time we've had to use the 'Chara' protocol. The others did not even come close enough to warrant the use of that, considering they died without finishing their trials.”

Frisk could not contain themselves. They pulled their knees to their chest, crying profusely and rocking slightly as they did so.

“Frisk, we find your case rather interesting. You're the only subject that has had multiple RESET's, and each trial has been distinctly different. So, because of that we have authorized another RESET. If you provide the same or similar results than that of a previous trial, we will not be doing another RESET. You will have to live with the choices you make”.

Frisk looked up to man, their eyes damp and puffy.

“W-why i-is this--” they struggled to form words, “-happening to me?”

“You happened to be in the right place at the right time.” the man said. He gathered all the papers back into the folder. The man then reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat and pulled from it a device, a radio it seemed by the small antenna protruding from it.

“Subject has been debriefed and is ready for the next trial.” he said into the radio. A voice came through from the other end, although quiet enough for the man to hold the radio to his ear.

Frisk had returned to uncontrollably crying at the truth their existence had been a lie.

“Yes—I understand-” The man said into the radio, “I realize that but—I would advise against—I don't think that will be necessary—The subject would react—Alright, if you insist. We will proceed.”

The man returned the radio to his pocket.

“Subject Frisk, prepare for insertion into the next trial.”

Frisk stood from the chair with enough force to knock it backwards. They shook their head furiously. Terror was all they could feel.

“Please Frisk, relax. Why don't you lie down on the bed?”

Somehow Frisk felt compelled to do so. They laid back on the bed.

“Relax. Everything will be fine. Just close your eyes and rest.”

Once again Frisk did as instructed. They whimpered as they closed their eyes.

Seconds later, they could feel nothing.

 

Frisk opened their eyes. They were laying on a bed of golden flowers showered in light coming from above. Frisk could not remember how they got here.

At the far end of the room was a hallway that led out of the cavern like space. Frisk walked down the passage and entered another room that resembled the previous one.

 

All that was in the room was a solitary golden flower with a face of its own, happily waving itself to Frisk as they entered.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Smith stood outside the door of the office that belonged to his superior, the Frisk File still clenched in his hands. The office was a short walk from the room where he had previously been, the room where he debriefed Subject Frisk. As he sent the Subject into another trial, his radio crackled with a summon specific to him. Now here he stood, more hesitant than he was the first day he began as an Agent. He had no reason to be nervous. Conversations with his boss were strange, but never had he been reprimanded.

“I know you're out there.” a muffled voice called through the door, “Might as well enter.”

Mr. Smith proceeded into the room, perplexed at the call to enter.

The office was nothing like the Subject debrief room or any other room in the Agency. The walls were painted a dark maroon color, a bookshelf at the far end of the room had been painted a light gray. The desk, arguably the most interesting piece of the room, was painted with a shade of really, really burnt orange. The color palette was interesting to say the least—almost as interesting as the figure who sat in the unnecessarily high-backed red leather chair.

The back of the chair was facing Mr. Smith. He found this odd considering his superior could not possibly see him from that point of view. Then again the office door had no window. Statistically, thought Mr. Smith, it was impossible for his superior to know he was standing outside. But how had he known? It's possible that—

“When you're finished figuring out how I knew you were there, take a seat.”

Mr. Smith released a frustrated sigh. He tossed the Frisk File onto the desk top and sat opposite of the figure's chair. He examined the items on his superior's desk. Nothing of great interest, a few pens, a stack of manila files, and other office items. The most flashy piece of anything was the nameplate centered perfectly on the desk.

It read:

_W.D Gaster_

_Agency Director_

 

The chair turned a full 180 degrees. W.D Gaster, the current director of the human/monster cooperative known only as The Agency, flashed Mr. Smith a quick grin.

The man, technically a monster, was the most bizarre character Mr. Smith had ever encountered. To start off, he was a skeleton—or he had been at some point. His face was warped in a strange way. His right eye socket was drooped, and two large cracks were present on his face. One ran from the top of the dropped eye socket upwards, and the other stretched from his left eye socket down to his mouth, which was entrapped in a permanent smile. Gaster's creepiest feature were the two beady pupil-like eyes that somehow manifested within his eye sockets, something that still sent chills down Mr. Smith's spine. Gaster's fashion sense was something else—in a good way. He always wore only one particular outfit; a white turtle neck with a black suit jacket, accompanied with black dress pants and shoes. One could imagine the outfit would become stale after some time, however Gaster wore the attire flawlessly. Never had Mr. Smith seen the outfit disheveled in any sort of way.

Mr. Smith knew little about W.D Gaster, but what he did know was that Gaster had come from the Underground many years ago, and quickly worked his way up the Agency hierarchy. It was Gaster who recruited Mr. Smith into the agency seven years ago, a story for another time.

“Do you know why I called you here?”

Mr. Smith shrugged. Truthfully he had no idea why he had been summoned.

“It is because of that hesitation you had when sending Subject Frisk into another trial.”

Smith was at a loss for a reply. He couldn't remember any specific 'hesitation' Gastor had accused him of.

“Sir, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“I didn't think you would.” he began, “You see it was very slight hesitation. Just enough for me to notice, but not enough for you to realize it. When you answered your radio in the debriefing room you disagreed with me on another trial. Usually you would have done so immediately. This time you hesitated and attempted to change my order. Why is that?”

Mr. Smith sat in silence. His eyes darted about the room as if an answer would be in plain sight. He met his gaze back to Gaster, letting a slight sigh.

“Something has been bothering me. Can I just speak my mind?” Smith asked, “Without any kind of repercussions?”

“Why of course, Mr. Smith. But you are not in trouble, I am just genuinely curious. You have never questioned an order before.”

Mr. Smith re positioned himself in his seat.

“Well, the thing is-” He began, “We had a perfect trial. Subject Frisk finally accomplished what all these trials over the years were meant to do. The Agency exists to reunite the Surface and Underground worlds. Frisk did just that. But then you ordered a recall. Everything that we had worked for was then gone, just like all the times we recalled Subject Frisk. I don't understand why the recall was ordered. Honestly, had I been in charge of that department I would have refused the order.”

Mr. Smith remembered that day well. It felt as if it had happened months ago, and technically it did. The recall essentially reset the physical time line to when Subject Frisk had first been inserted into their first trial. Smith did not fully understand the science behind it, but he was suspicious some Monster magic had been thrown into the mix at some point. Active Agency operatives were never effect by a recall, therefore the feeling of déjà vu was common among Agents.

Subject Frisk became the first successful trial that united the Humans and Monsters as they had been many years ago. The Agency was in celebration the day Monsters resurfaced. Yet it had also been a bittersweet occasion. Monsters and Humans would finally live united once more—but it meant The Agency would be disbanded. Mr. Smith remembered cleaning out his office after the disband order had been issued. However, Director Gaster then issued the recall order. At the time it was not a popular decision among other Agents.

Gaster leaned back into his chair. It released a creaking through the office as it reclined.

“Mr. Smith, there are many things you nor I will never understand. I do agree we as The Agency did accomplish our end goal. But even as we did there were future issues I foresaw as problematic. What would happen if Monsters and Humans discovered what we have done? Our methods used to reach unity of the Surface and Underground are not exactly ethical, mainly the use of human children to carry out our goals. If I am to be completely honest with you, Mr. Smith, I was afraid. I was afraid what consequences we would face when a united Human and Monster force learned that we sent seven children to their deaths.”

Mr. Smith raised an eyebrow, curious at the last piece of what Gaster had said.

“Seven? I think you meant to say six.” He said. Gaster cut his eyes away from Smith. “Right, sir?”

Gaster shook his head.

“There were seven. Six were official. The very first, well-”

He shuffled in his chair and rolled over to a nearby filing cabinet. Opening one of the drawers Gaster began fingering through dozens of folders. He then came across the item he was searching, then peered over his shoulder to Mr. Smith.

“Smith, what I am about to show you is top secret” Gaster rolled back to desk. He held a red file up into the air.

“Only a few others have ever known this file existed. I am the last living entity to know about the first trial.”

Gaster set the file on his desk then slid it towards the front edge. Smith cautiously grabbed the file. The protective cover was cracked and discolored. The file was surely old. On the front printed in black ink were the words _Subject: Chara_. Mr. Smith opened the file and began reading through.

Mr. Smith read the file thoroughly, many times rereading sentences to fully grasp the information within. He felt as if he was reading a thrilling novel. The information contained within was indeed as scandalous as Gaster has indicated.

Smith laid the file in his lap and turned his attention back to Gaster.

“You weren't kidding.” said Smith, “This is—disturbing. The very first subject was this 'Chara'. It seems the same child or, at least the name, is what we use for the CHARA Protocol. But how this trial began is what I find hard to swallow.”

Smith reopened the file and shuffled some of the papers around, searching for a specific document. When he found it, he moved to the front of the file.

“This piece here-” Smith said holding the document in the air, “If what this says is true, you were essentially responsible for the death of Chara.”

“Smith, I think you're being a bit-”

“Stop” Mr. Smith said firmly, “Let me finish.”

Mr. Smith pulled the document close enough to read.

“This reads: _'Phase 1 of the Subject Chara trial has concluded. After exposing the subject to extreme mental and physical distress at the hands of others in their living environment, it is believed the subject has developed mild to severe misanthropy. This result is an intended goal, therefore Phase 1 is marked as a success. Phase 2 will begin as soon as the subject shows the proper signs. Agents are already planting ideas in the subject's conscience in order to draw them to Mt. Ebott. Agents will continue to monitor Subject Chara. Further data gathered will determine trial success.'_ ”

Mr. Smith moved onto another passage on the document.  
“ _Phase 2 is concluded with a partial success. Subject Chara did insert themselves into the Underground, but the predicted outcome of the trial was vastly different from the actual results. Subject Chara was formally adopted by the Royal Dreemurr Family, the first of two major deviations. Chara resided among monsters for several years in what appeared as perfect coexistence. However, it appears as if Subject Chara's disdain for humanity was more than was predicted. In fact, the subject poisoned themselves to achieve death in order to fuse their soul with that of another monster, their adoptive sibling Asriel Dreemurr. Once the two souls occupied the same body they were able to cross the Barrier and arrive into the surface world. This was not a foreseen result and once Subject Chara's motives were discovered a Cleanup Order was issued. Unfortunately, this meant the death of both Chara and Asriel. Chara's death was a predicted outcome, but Asriel's death was not. As a side result, King Asgore has declared 'war' on the surface. Agents report a claim from Asgore that any humans that arrive in the Underground will be slain. The Subject Chara Trial is hereby fully terminated. The search for future trial subjects will begin promptly.”_

Mr. Smith's eyes were then drawn to a handwritten portion of the document. It appeared to be a side note written in faded red ink. He continued to read aloud.

_“This whole thing was a complete mess. Looking back on it now it was wrong to do what we did. I am overcome with guilt, as it was my idea to use Chara as the subject. Many times have I seen the love the Dreemurr family gave to Chara. Asgore and Toriel loved Chara as if they were a biological child, and Asriel had a true sibling in Chara. And yet I stood by and held back the dirty truth. We were only trying to find a way to break the barrier, so that once more humans and monsters may exist in peace. But instead, I killed two children. Asgore, my dear friend, should you ever discover the truth please forgive me. I became caught in a moment of 'the ends justify the means'. After the pain I have caused you and Toriel, all I can offer are my most sincere apologies._

_Your loyal friend,_

_W.D Gaster”_

 

Mr. Smith glanced up to Gaster, his face plastered with guilt than had run decades long.

“You signed this,” Smith said, “As if you meant to give it to Asgore.”

Gaster replied with a slight nod.

“I did at one point, but now you see why I issued that recall.”

Mr. Smith also have a nod. “I do. I don't agree with it. We accomplished in uniting humans and monsters, but your selfish act made the whole thing null! Asgore would have never found out the truth! You betrayed everything we stand for! Not to mention what happened with Chara. This child was manipulated from the very beginning for that trial. That is the most insidious thing I have ever heard! How could you possibly do this to a child? ”

“Don't act all condescending towards me. I did what I thought was right, and in the end I paid for it.”

“Not as much as Asgore or Toriel did.” Smith sharply said.

Gaster was taken back by the statement, his face quickly showing rage.

“I think that is the end of this discussion.” He said then reached his hand out, “The file please.”

Mr. Smith returned the documents inside the file, then proceeded to hand the file back to Gaster. Smith's grip failed on the file and it fell to the office floor, the contents spilling out.

“My apologies.” Smith said. He leaned forward to gather the documents once more into the file.

Smith stood with the file, firmly placing it in Gaster's hand, who then just tossed onto the desk top. Mr. Smith then turned to leave the office.

“Smith” Gaster said after him. Mr. Smith stopped mid stride and peered over his shoulder back to Gaster.

“Do not tell anyone what I showed you.”

Smith nodded then exited the office. Deep inside his chest resided a burning rage for what had been revealed. He had sworn his life away working in The Agency, to strive towards uniting monsters and humans. The end goal had been met, but it turned out to all be for nothing.

Since his first day with The Agency Mr. Smith held Gaster with high regard. He saw him as a role model, as someone who he once thought was going to lead the charge to unity. But as Smith recently discovered, everything had become a lie. He wondered what else was being covered up.

Mr. Smith stopped by The Agency cafeteria for a soda and engaged in small talk with other Agents, but then promptly made his way back to his office. Once inside he locked the door and sat at his desk. The office was roughly half the size of his superior's, yet it was still fairly roomy. A door behind the desk led into Mr. Smith's private quarters, as all Agents resided within the Agency.

A few files had been left on Mr. Smith's desk, namely one that had been of interest several years ago. It was named “The Milo File”, a trial that had been suspended and as such a giant “SUSPENDED” was stamped in red across the front. Smith's task with this file was to continue monitoring it, while also archiving any information gathered. It was the least of his worries at the moment.

Smith pushed aside the files. He sat motionless as he peered around his office, only breaking his statue like status for a sip of his soda.

Then Smith leaned forward, reaching for his left sock. From beneath the dark colored argyle sock he pulled a folded piece of paper. Unfolding the paper revealed it to be a document from the Chara File, specifically the document that incriminated Gaster. Smith hid the document in his sock when he had “accidentally” dropped the Chara file. He read the document over once more before folding it again and hiding it within a drawer of his desk.

Smith sat in silence for hours. Inside of his mind a plan was being developed, one to right the wrongs done by the Agency Director. As the scheme grew Smith decided he would need the help of an unlikely asset; the very first trial subject.

 


End file.
